


Fear Has Many Faces

by TazzyJan



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TazzyJan/pseuds/TazzyJan
Summary: Fear can come from many sources - on and off the battlefield.





	Fear Has Many Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Snow_Glory for the idea!

Aramis knew this feeling.  
   
It was fear.  
   
He and it were old, if not especially dear, friends.  It made his heart race and his stomach flip.  It made his scalp grow tight, as if suddenly too small for his skull.  He could taste it, that foul, acrid taste in the back of his throat where the bile threatened to come up.  He swallowed it back down, though.  Made his stomach settle even if he couldn't stop his heart from hammering against his ribs.  He tightened his grip on his sword, ignoring the clamminess of his hand as he did so.  One would think the men across from him would be able to smell the stink of it, to read it in his eyes, but he knew they couldn't.  His eyes were as dark and hard as ever.  Harder even.  The kind of hard they only got when he was well and truly afraid.

For a moment, he let his eyes fall to the young man kneeling in the clearing at these brigands’ feet. D’Artagnan had blood running down the side of his head from the blow he had taken. What drew Aramis’ eyes the most, however, was the thin trickle of blood that ran down his neck from the knife pressed against his tender throat. 

This was the thing that scared him. This was the thing that had unleashed the wild fear inside of him. Fear that was taking every bit of his training to resist. Yet resist it he would. For to give into it would be to doom them both and he would sooner fall on his own sword than watch the bright spark that was d’Artagnan go out.

While seeing any of his brothers in such dire straits would enrage him, seeing d’Artagnan in such peril was so much worse, so much... more. Aramis realized it was rather poor timing on his part for an epiphany. 

His new realization was not important right now, though. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting his young friend out of their current predicament. He considered offering to trade himself, to let them take him in d’Artagnan’s place but he doubted they would go for it. All it would do would be to show them exactly how important the boy was to him and that was something he could not afford.

He knew Athos and Porthos were out there, somewhere, working on making their way to them. All he had to do was keep these animals focused on him until his brothers could make their way through the trees and get there. That was the problem. As stand-offs went, it wasn’t much of one. There were four of them and he was but a single Musketeer. Unless you counted d’Artagnan who was bleeding and on his knees with a blade at his throat. 

“Drop your weapons or I’ll slit his throat,” the man with the knife said, apparently tired of waiting.

“Harm him and I will kill you where you stand,” Aramis replied with a calmness he did not feel. _This boy is not dying here,_ he promised himself in that moment. No matter what else might happen, that much he would make sure of. 

“You really think you can get all of us?” the man laughed snidely and spit on the ground.

“No,” Aramis conceded. “But I don’t have to. I just have to get you. And anyone else foolish enough to go for the boy.”

“My men will cut you down,” he said, eyes hardening.

“You still won’t kill the boy,” Aramis returned confidently, surprised at the fact that he truly believed that. They might very well cut him down here but they would not get d’Artagnan.

“Aramis… no…” d’Artagnan slurred weakly. 

“Yeah, Aramis,” the man with the knife chided. “You might wanna listen to the brat.”

“Be quiet, d’Artagnan. Everything will be alright.”

“You really willing to die for some pissant boy who can’t even manage not to get taken prisoner?”

“You have no idea what I am willing to do for him,” Aramis said. “Now if you want to live past the next five minutes, I suggest you release him and drop your weapons.”

“Oh kill the kid already, Pike,” one of the other men said though Aramis was unsure which, his eyes never leaving the man with the knife. 

Aramis saw the man’s, Pike he told himself, hand tighten on the knife and felt his stomach try to crawl up his throat. He knew he could never reach him in time. Even throwing the blade behind his back would likely come too late to stop him from slitting d’Artagnan’s throat. For all his talk he was going to be forced to watch this boy die. 

He opened his mouth to say something, anything that might forestall what was about to happen, when an explosion of blood and brain suddenly erupted from where Pike’s head had been. He registered the sound of the musket firing a split second later then he was rushing forward shoving d’Artagnan down and blocking the blade that had been aimed at his head. 

Two minutes later, it was over. The four brigands lay dead at their feet as Aramis stood panting and doing his best not to throw up at the realization of how close they had come. The sound of a soft moan jerked him back to the here and now and he quickly dropped down to d’Artagnan’s side.

“Easy now,” he said as he cradled his head, checking it as gently as he could. He could see the blood was from a gash in his scalp. The boy likely had a slight concussion but that was probably the worst of it. 

“’Mis?” d’Artagnan whispered, grimacing as even that soft sound seemed to bounce off the walls of his skull.

“Shh. It’s alright. I’ve got you,” Aramis soothed, his hand stroking the uninjured side of d’Artagnan’s face without thought.

“Can he make it back to the garrison?” Athos whispered, leaning down to speaking directly into Aramis’ ear.

“I think so,” Aramis said with a nod. “But we’ll need to move slow.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Athos replied. He left the pair alone then as he and Porthos went to gather the horses. He had not missed the look on his brother’s face near the end but didn’t say anything. Whatever this was, for now it was between Aramis and d’Artagnan. 

Luckily the men had horses of their own and they were able to tie the dead bodies over them rather than leave them to rot. Not that they wouldn’t have in order to get d’Artagnan back home. Even so, Aramis insisted on riding with the boy, not trusting him to stay in the saddle of his own accord. 

D’Artagnan, for his part, had not complained. He had merely moved forward a bit so Aramis could settle behind him, pulling the man’s arm around his middle himself before leaning back against him. 

Once back at the garrison, Athos bade Aramis take d’Artagnan to his room to rest, saying he and Porthos would report to the Captain. Aramis hadn’t argued, both grateful for his friend’s understanding and slightly worried about Athos’ uncanny perception. He did not mind so much for himself but the last thing he wanted was for anyone to cast aspersions on his young friend because of him.

Aramis helped d’Artagnan into his room at the garrison, glad for the lateness of the hour. It wasn’t that his presence was out of the ordinary, especially since the lad was hurt, but the less attention he drew to himself in this regard the better. As he eased d’Artagnan down onto his bed, he found him to be unusually pliant, allowing him to help him off with his weapons and doublet. He had started to protest when he knelt down to take off his boots, but Aramis had hushed him and was surprised again when he obeyed. 

After pulling his boots off, Aramis sat back on the floor and looked up at the young man. He was a bit disconcerted to find him looking back at him, his face lined in concentration, as if he was trying to figure out some puzzle that was eluding him. That thought gave Aramis pause and he quickly got to his feet.

“Can you, ah, manage the rest or…?” Aramis asked, trailing off, suddenly overcome with a bout of shyness that had him blushing. He had undressed all of his brothers any number of times when they had been too injured, or simply too drunk, to do so themselves. He had no idea why he was so flustered now. Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he was flustered at the thought of helping d’Artagnan out of his clothes. 

All at once, that sickly fear was back again making his stomach flip and his heart race. He felt his hands start to sweat and unconsciously wiped them down his breeches. He could feel the other man’s dark eyes on him. It was like they were looking into him, seeing what lay at the very core of him, and he found his heart pounding even harder.

“I could use some help actually,” d’Artagnan said at last, his voice still slurred though nowhere near as bad as it had been. 

“Of course,” Aramis said softly, moving forward at once as he chastised himself for letting his thoughts run wild. He was a healer and d’Artagnan’s brother. He needed to act as such.

Aramis reached for his cuff, intent on loosening it when d’Artagnan’s hand suddenly covered his. He looked up, meeting those dark eyes and felt his breath catch. 

“Thank you,” d’Artagnan said. He held Aramis’ eyes for a moment more before releasing his hand and leaning back.

Aramis opened his mouth to reply but could think of nothing to say. Not wanting to make even more of a fool of himself than he obviously already had, he said nothing and concentrated on helping the younger man out of his shirt and breeches. Once he was down to his smalls, Aramis helped him settle into the bed then pulled up a chair beside it before settling in himself for the night.

When Aramis awoke the next morning it was to find d’Artagnan watching him. He had stayed awake most of the night keeping an eye on the boy but had fallen asleep sometime before dawn. He had meant to be gone before d’Artagnan awoke, hoping to avoid any awkward conversations as well as slipping out before the yard became too busy. _So much for that idea_ , he thought wryly.

“Have you been here all night?” D’Artagnan asked, his words no longer slurred as he sat up in bed.

“Ah, well, I wanted to make sure you were truly alright,” Aramis said, rubbing at the back of his neck as he once more felt a flush creeping up his face.

“I was not that badly hurt,” d’Artagnan pointed out.

“Head wounds can be tricky,” Aramis shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to stay the whole night. I must have fallen asleep.”

“You meant to be gone before I woke. Why?”

“To avoid this very conversation,” Aramis grumbled under his breath before continuing much louder. “Well, I know how much you don’t like to be coddled.”

“Aramis, talk to me,” d’Artagnan implored softly. 

Aramis felt his heart drop to his stomach before trying to beat its way out of his chest. He stared at the younger man as a deer in a hunter’s site. Or a child with his hand in the cookie jar. _Caught_. Swallowing thickly, he tried to think of something, anything, to say but his mind was an unhelpful blank. 

“Aramis? What is it?” D’Artagnan asked, leaning forward so that the blanket fell down to pool in his lap baring his chest. “You look as if you’re suddenly scared to death.”

“I’m sorry, d’Artagnan. I truly am. I... I have to go.” With that he abruptly stood and strode from the young man’s quarters. He left so quickly he didn’t even grab his hat but left it sitting on the bureau. 

Cursing himself for a fool, Aramis headed straight for his own quarters. He passed Athos and Porthos on the way but paid them no mind. He needed to get someplace private, preferably someplace with copious amounts of wine, so he could try to get himself under some semblance of control. As it was, he was so scared of what the lad might have figured out that his hands were shaking.

Aramis sighed with relief when he closed the door to his quarters behind them. Jerking off his weapons and doublet, he threw them down on the table then went in search of the wine he had tucked away for the next time Athos came to call. 

“Aha!” he said when he found it and quickly took a long pull straight from the bottle. It was strong stuff, stronger than he normally preferred, and it burned its way down his throat to his belly to settle warmly in the pit of his stomach, dampening the fear inside him at least temporarily. 

Slightly calmer, he carried the bottle over to his bed and sat down on the side of it. He had no idea how he was going to fix this. Even if d’Artagnan had not figured out what was going on, from the look his brother gave him Athos surely had. And that… that did not bode well for him. Not that he thought Athos would betray him. But it was such a burdensome secret to keep. He had no right to ask such a thing of his friend. 

Feeling the fear start to claw its way through the first rush of alcohol, Aramis quickly brought the bottle to his lips again. He would… he would go to his brother. He would explain himself. Well no, not really, but he would offer some explanation that Athos might be willing to accept and he would apologize for behaving in so unseemly a manner. If need be, he would do the same with d’Artagnan and hope that the lad accepted his words.

Aramis was about to take another drink, determined to drown the panic that refused to abate, when a knock at his door made him freeze with the bottle half way to his mouth. A part of his mind shrieked at him not to answer to it, to pretend he wasn’t there but he knew that for the useless act it was. Athos had seen him enter his quarters after all. 

Swallowing back the bile that flooded his mouth, he set the bottle down on the floor and went to answer the door. He had hoped to have some time to figure out what to say before facing the man but Athos was not the sort to dither about things, especially where his brothers were concerned. Added to that was the fact that he still considered himself d’Artagnan’s mentor which made Aramis’ predicament even more dire. 

“Athos, I can explain…” Aramis began as he opened the door only to stop short at the sight of d’Artagnan standing before him. He blinked owlishly at the younger man as if unsure if what he was seeing was real.

“May I come in?” d’Artagnan asked when Aramis made no move to step aside.

“Ah, um, yes. Yes, of course,” he said, quickly stepping back so that he could enter. As he closed the door he could see Athos watching them from across the yard and his stomach tightened painfully. Oh this was not good. This was not good _at all_.

“Aramis? Are you alright?” d’Artagnan asked worriedly. He had seen his friend suddenly go pale and reached out to steady him. As he took hold of his arm he felt him actually shaking slightly beneath his hand and his eyes widened in alarm. 

Aramis couldn’t stop himself from shaking at the feel of d’Artagnan’s hand on his arm. He very nearly moaned aloud and had to clamp his traitorous mouth shut tight. When he actually managed to look at the man, he saw that his face was etched with concern and his shoulders slumped. 

“Aramis, please,” d’Artagnan said, giving his arm a gentle shake. “Talk to me. You look scared to death. What is wrong? Whatever it is, brother, you know I’ll help you.”

“No,” Aramis said, his voice strangled. “No, you won’t.”

“I beg your pardon?” d’Artagnan said, hurt lacing his words. “I would do anything for you. You know that.”

“I’m sorry,” Aramis said as he carefully extracted his arm from d’Artagnan’s grip and moved back over to the bed. He sat down heavily as if his legs could no longer bear his weight and immediately sought out the bottle of wine next to him. 

“What are you sorry about?” d’Artagnan asked. He took a chance and moved over to the bed as well. He sat down next to Aramis though he was careful to keep some small space between them. Whatever was wrong with his brother, he was well and truly terrified and d’Artagnan had a feeling the least little thing would send him running.

“Everything,” Aramis snorted. “This… it’s all my fault. I didn’t mean to. I swear to God above, I did not mean to do this. You were never supposed to know.”

“I was never supposed to know what?” d’Artagnan asked, telling himself to be patient, to go slowly, that whatever this was he must wrest it from Aramis one tiny bit at a time.

“You know,” Aramis said as he lifted the bottle and took another long drink. 

“I know?” d’Artagnan repeated. “I’m not so sure I do. Does this have to do with yesterday?”

“Yes,” Aramis nodded. “And no. Yesterday was a… a catalyst of sorts but it is not the heart of it. Not truly.”

“Then what is it? Is it because I got hurt? Because… because you were afraid I was going to die?”

“Again, we speak of the catalyst,” Aramis replied as he groped for something to say, anything other than admitting he was in love with this boy and watching the concern in his eyes turn to hate. But he was cornered. He had nowhere to go. He could not even run for that was the look Athos had given him. Settle this or Athos would settle it for him.

“Aramis, please,” d’Artagnan beseeched again. He could practically feel the panic welling inside his friend and had no idea what to do. He was a hairsbreadth from calling for Athos hoping that maybe he could get Aramis to talk but he was hesitant. He had seen the look that passed between the two. Aramis was almost as afraid of Athos as he seemed to be of him.

Taking a chance, d’Artagnan reached out and took Aramis’ hand. He felt the man start but he didn’t pull away though the telltale tremors of before suddenly intensified. “Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he told him again. “I swear it on our brotherhood.”

“Very well,” Aramis said realizing he had no choice but to tell him the truth. “However, if you feel your honor demands satisfaction I will understand, though I would quite prefer you just shoot me as I have no intention of ever dueling you.”

“You think I would hurt you?” d’Artagnan gasped.

“Most would. Athos will if he finds out his suspicions are indeed correct.”

“Listen to me,” d’Artagnan said sternly. “Nothing you say could ever make me want to hurt you. And if Athos tried, he’d have to go through me to do it. You are my friend and my brother and you would have willingly died in that clearing yesterday trying to save me. How could you think I would turn from you?”

“Because I am in love with you,” Aramis said softly. “That is why I was so scared yesterday. Horrible timing for an epiphany, I realize. Though I think I have known for a while and simply been too afraid to admit it to myself. So now you know.”

D’Artagnan didn’t speak, still trying to digest the six words that had turned his world on its ear. He found it difficult to believe that a man such as Aramis could want him of all people. Aramis, who could have anyone in all of France in his bed if he chose to, wanted _him_. It left him stunned.

When long seconds turned to excruciating minutes Aramis felt the tiny flame of hope within him sputter out. He slowly drew back his hand from d’Artagnan’s now lax one and tried to gather himself for what was to come. He had not been joking when he said he would rather the boy simply shot him then challenged him to a duel. After what he had done he deserved the ignoble death of being shot down by a man who once called him brother. 

He hoped the boy would at least give him until morning. He had some few things he would like to take care of and he wanted to make confession one last time. Not that he thought it would do him any good all things considered but he still wanted to.

“I can meet you on your field of choosing at dawn,” Aramis said when the silence became more than he could bear. “Once you explain to Athos, I am sure he will be willing to act as your second though it will not be necessary. I will not raise a weapon against you.”

“What are you talking about?” d’Artagnan asked, Aramis’ words snapping him back to the present rather harshly. The look of abject misery on the man’s face made his heart ache and he reached for his hand again only for Aramis to pull back.

“I will not duel you,” Aramis explained. “If you wish… I will not duel you. Name your battlefield and I shall be there.”

“Aramis… you don’t truly expect me to just… just execute you, do you?”

“Most men would have done so already,” Aramis shrugged. “I only ask for you to give me until dawn to take care of a few matters. I assure you, I will not run.”

“Of course you won’t run,” d’Artagnan said. “You have far too much honor for that. And we are not meeting at dawn for me to… to… I can’t even say it.” He shot to his feet unable to sit still and began to pace. While he was still thrown by what Aramis had admitted to, he was even more upset by what he thought was going to happen. 

“D’Artagnan?”

D’Artagnan whirled around at the sound of his name and stared at the man still sitting on the side of his bed. Forcing himself to calm, he took a step toward him then another until he stood directly in front of him. Seeing the stark fear in his friend’s eyes, he kept his movements slow as he reached out and cupped the side of his face gently.

“How could you think I would do that? How could you think I would ever do anything to hurt you?”

Aramis looked up at the other man unable to speak. “Because… because it is an abomination,” he said when he finally found his voice, weak though it was. 

“You don’t believe that,” d’Artagnan challenged.

“The church believes it,” Aramis countered. “And it is a crime punishable by death.”

“So it is,” d’Artagnan sighed. “Do you truly think it’s wrong, what you feel for me?”

“Yes,” Aramis replied, “but only in that I have no right to think such things of you. It is dishonorable. You should feel at ease with your brothers, not worried about what one might try to do to you.”

“You think I’m worried about that? My friend, I have never once seen you offer an advance where it was not wanted. Not to so much as a barmaid. You certainly would not do so to me.”

“You don’t know that,” Aramis countered shaking his head. 

“Yes, I do,” d’Artagnan told him. “However, you are assuming your advances would be unwanted. I would not…”

“No,” Aramis said. It was his turn to surge to his feet and begin pacing the room angrily. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity? You are the very last man I would ever pity.” D’Artagnan waited until Aramis was near then moved forward to neatly cut him off mid-stride. He grabbed him by the arms before he could turn away and held him there, his eyes boring into the other man’s and pleading for him to believe him. 

He waited until some of the anger had eased from Aramis before carefully leaning forward. He felt him stiffen in his arms and try to draw back but he held onto him refusing to allow it as he brushed their lips together.

Aramis couldn’t stop himself from gasping as d’Artagnan’s mouth met his in a gentle brush of lips. A second later that mouth was back as the younger man surged forward. Aramis felt their bodies press together and moaned into their kiss. His knees nearly buckled when d’Artagnan began to suckle on his bottom lip and he found himself gripping the other man back tightly. 

As they kissed, d’Artagnan began to move them. When he stopped and began to sink down, Aramis followed him willingly, letting him guide him where he would. They ended up stretched out on Aramis’ bed with d’Artagnan on his back and Aramis lying atop him. 

When he realized just where they were and what they were doing, Aramis’ prick swelled in his breeches. He tried to draw back again, to move his hips away so as not to overstep himself but d’Artagnan refused to allow it, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling him in close. At the feel of his hardness pressing into the other man’s hip Aramis couldn’t help but gasp, arching his back and tearing his mouth away as he struggled not to grind against him.

“Shh. Easy now. That’s it,” d’Artagnan cooed as he held Aramis pressed against him. “So beautiful.”

“Why... why are you doing this?” Aramis panted. “You said... said it wasn’t pity but what then? Is it curiosity? Opportunity? Lust?”

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe that I might feel as you do?” D’Artagnan asked. He began stroking his hand up and down Aramis’ back as best he could, hoping to calm him. Aramis still reminded him far too much of a spooked horse and he found he did not care for that at all.

“Because you have never shown any such feelings before,” Aramis pointed out.

“And neither did you before yesterday when you thought I was going to die and there was nothing you could do to stop it.”

“Oh,” Aramis said as he considered d’Artagnan’s words. “I... Do you... do you mean it? Please don’t say it just because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I mean it. I have feelings for you. I would not go so far as to say I was in love with you. Yet. But I would very much like to see where this could lead.”

“What about Athos?” Aramis asked.

“He’s not really my type,” d’Artagnan replied, smiling softly. 

“You know what I mean. He isn’t going to like this. He...”

“Let me worry about Athos,” d’Artagnan interrupted. “He may not like it but it isn’t his place to say anything about it. I am a grown man and able to make my own decisions.”

“But he’s your mentor,” Aramis pointed out worriedly.

“Then he will do what is best for me. And what is best for me is for him to mind his own business in this.”

“I just don’t want to cause a problem between you. I know how much his regard means to you.”

D’Artagnan could tell that Aramis meant what he said. He would stop this right now if he thought he was going to screw things up between him and Athos. He wasn’t going to let that happen, though. Athos might be displeased about it. Would most likely be quite put out with both of them in fact. But d’Artagnan didn’t care. 

“You let me worry about Athos,” he said again hoping to ease some of Aramis’ fears. “For now, how about we lay here and you let me hold you for a while?”

They stayed like that for hours until hunger finally drove them from the comfort of Aramis’ bed. They had talked while they lay together, each trying to gauge how familiar the other was with such things. While Aramis knew the mechanics of it, he had never taken a male lover before. D’Artagnan had a bit more experience, though not much. He had shared a few youthful fumbles in his father’s barn but that was the whole of it. 

As they got ready to go out in search of food, Aramis grew noticeably tense. They had been safe enough inside the confines of his rooms but outside those walls was a different story. He wanted this. He wanted this so very badly, yet he would forego it if it was going to cause trouble for d’Artagnan. He would rather be alone than see the young man suffer for his sake. 

“I will speak with Athos,” d’Artagnan said as Aramis donned the last of his weapons. His own, along with Aramis’ hat, were back in his rooms. 

“I am not afraid of Athos,” Aramis said.

“Yes you are,” d’Artagnan countered gently. “Though why I am unsure. He is your brother, Aramis. He will not turn from you.”

“What I have proposed is both a sin and a crime,” Aramis reminded him. 

“That will not matter. Athos loves you too much to care about such things.”

“Loves me?” Aramis snorted. “Athos disdains love.”

“Romantic love, perhaps. But he still loves you,” d’Artagnan argued. 

“You are his protégé, d’Artagnan, and I am willfully endangering you for what he will see as nothing more than a whim.”

“Is that all this is? A whim?”

“No,” Aramis replied softly. “I would never do such a thing. Not to you. What I feel for you… I love you. It is why I am so reluctant. I would rather be without out than see you harmed in some way.”

“I know,” d’Artagnan said with a faint smile. “I trust you. Completely. So trust in me to deal with Athos.”

Seeing how ill at ease Aramis still was, d’Artagnan bid him wait for him there while he went to retrieve his things. He wasn’t altogether sure why he was so afraid, especially of Athos, but thought it might have something to do with yesterday. Even he had thought he was going to die for a minute there and he thought Aramis might still be on edge from the close call. He hoped that was the case. For the thought of Aramis being this afraid of Athos did not sit well with him at all. 

As he made his way across the compound toward his rooms, he was not surprised to see Athos headed toward him. Reminding himself that he had promised Aramis he would handle this, he gave a terse nod and left the door open as he entered his quarters. A moment later he heard the sound of the door closing and turned to face his mentor. 

“Care to explain what you were doing in Aramis’ quarters for so long?” Athos asked bluntly.

“Talking. Mostly,” d’Artagnan replied. “We did simply lay together for a time as well. Does that suffice or do you require more detail?”

“What exactly do you think you are playing at here, boy?” Athos demanded, stepping right up to d’Artagnan and glaring.

“I am not playing at anything and neither is Aramis,” d’Artagnan said calmly, refusing to back down. 

“Please,” Athos said with a wave of his hand. “You are nothing more than the flavor of the week. If you last that long.”

“You are my friend so I will let that pass but mind your tongue,” d’Artagnan warned. 

“Are you threatening me, child?” Athos sneered.

“I’m not a child. And before you say it, Aramis isn’t taking advantage of me and my naiveté. He… cares for me. He wishes to have something with me though he is terrified it will end up doing me harm in some way.”

“It will!” Athos spat, turning away angrily. “In case you have missed it, d’Artagnan, Aramis is a whore. He will…”

Athos got no further than that before d’Artagnan spun him around and slapped him sharply across the face. “I told you to watch your tongue and I meant it,” he snarled. “You have objections. Fine. Have them all you want but you will keep them to yourself.”

“And if I don’t?” Athos managed, shocked that the boy had actually hit him.

“Then there will be more than words exchanged between you and I,” he replied. “For all our sakes, Athos, please don’t make me choose.”

Aramis stood outside the door to d’Artagnan’s quarters, mortified. He could feel himself blushing all the way down his chest. He had known Athos had thought him somewhat promiscuous but he had never dreamed his brother thought so low of him as to call him a whore. It made everything inside of him twist painfully. For all that he worried about how Athos might look upon d’Artagnan because of this, he was equally worried for himself. He realized now he had no need to be. Athos already thought so low of him that he doubted if he could make it any worse.

Hearing the door start to open, Aramis quickly turned away and started back across the yard. He was not ready to face either man, unable to deal with Athos’ anger or d’Artagnan’s pity in that moment. He caught sight of Porthos casting a concerned glance his way and quickly turned his head. He was not sure what all Athos might have said to him but he could not deal with him either. 

D’Artagnan came out of his room to the sight of Aramis’ retreating back. He clenched his fists in frustration as he realized that he must surely have heard them. He was sorely tempted to turn around and thrash Athos but he pushed the urge down. Right now, Aramis needed him.

“Aramis, wait,” he called out. He saw the man pause and stiffen before continuing on. Cursing his stubbornness, he hurried to catch up to him. When he reached his side, however, he realized it was not stubbornness that made Aramis refuse to stop. 

“Hey,” d’Artagnan said softly. “It’s okay.” He could see the pain on his brother’s face and it made his heart ache. “Let’s go back to your rooms, okay?”

Aramis didn’t reply but continued on to his quarters silently. Athos’ harsh words played on a continuous loop in his head, the anger and disgust in his voice like barbs. Was it just because of d’Artagnan, he wondered. Or had Athos always thought so low of him? 

D’Artagnan closed the door behind them, going so far as to bolt it so that no one could follow them inside. That done, he turned back to Aramis and pulled him unresisting into his arms. He didn’t say anything, simply holding him as they stood in the middle of the room, letting his touch offer what comfort it could. 

“I’m so sorry,” d’Artagnan said when he felt Aramis finally relax against him. 

“You did nothing wrong,” Aramis said as he rested his head on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “I did not realize he felt that way. That he considered me nothing more than a whore. I thought… I thought we were brothers.”

“You are brothers,” d’Artagnan told him. He wanted to thrash Athos all over again for hurting Aramis like this. That slap he gave him wasn’t nearly enough. “He was angry. He didn’t mean what he said.”

“Athos always means what he says,” Aramis countered sadly. 

“Not this time,” d’Artagnan insisted. 

Even with the turn the day had taken d’Artagnan knew they still needed to eat. He considered going to the market himself but didn’t want to leave Aramis there alone. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust the man as it was that he didn’t trust Athos not to come calling. He had warned him to keep his opinions to himself but Athos was a stubborn bastard, especially when he thought he was right.

It took a little cajoling but he convinced Aramis to accompany him to an inn for some dinner. He chose one he and Constance had visited before. It was off the beaten path and therefore unlikely to be visited by anyone they knew. They found a quiet table nestled in the back and d’Artagnan was pleased when Aramis finally began to relax again.

Seeing him returning to his usual self, he took a chance and reached beneath the table for his hand. He grinned when the man startled but he didn’t draw his hand back and that was good enough for him. They sat like that until their food came, quietly holding hands under the table as they talked about whatever came to mind. 

After dinner, they got a bottle of wine and headed back to the garrison. They ended up in Aramis’ rooms again sitting side by side on the bed as they passed the bottle of wine back and forth between them. Aramis wanted so badly to ask d’Artagnan to stay but he knew it was a bad idea. Not that they had not spent the night in each other’s rooms before for they all had at one time or another, but Athos was furious enough as it was.

“What is it?” d’Artagnan asked, picking up on Aramis’ bout of introspection.

“Just thinking,” Aramis tried to deflect, not wanting to make him feel guilty when he went to leave.

“About?” d’Artagnan pressed. He thought he had a pretty good idea but wanted to hear it from Aramis.

Aramis sighed. “About bidding you farewell for the evening,” he admitted. “And how much I do not wish to.”

“You don’t have to. I can stay,” d’Artagnan offered.

“That would be unwise.”

“Because of Athos or because of something else?”

“Athos,” Aramis replied. “What other reason would there be?”

D’Artagnan shrugged and grinned. “I thought perhaps you might be worried we were rushing things a bit.”

“Ah. Um, are we?” Aramis asked suddenly worried.

“I don’t think so but this is sort of a first for both of us. And…”

“And?”

“And it’s never been this important before,” d’Artagnan explained. “You’re my brother. I love you dearly. I would not hurt you for all the world. If I am hesitant it is only because of that, nothing more.”

“You are my brother as well,” Aramis said earnestly. “And I love you just as dearly. I am in love with you as well. If I seem… impatient, well…”

“You have been the epitome of patience. If I recall correctly, you have not made a single advance toward me other than to declare yourself. You hold yourself in check with a strength of will that I do not believe I will ever possess.”

“Most of that is due to fear,” Aramis chuckled.

“No, it isn’t. Yes, there is fear there though I truly wish there was not. But that is not what holds you back.”

“What is it then?” Aramis asked, the wine taking the edge off things and making him feel warm and relaxed for the first time in two days.

“Respect,” d’Artagnan replied. “And love. You feel an abundance of both for me so you hold yourself back lest you do something to cause offense.”

“You are a very astute young man,” Aramis told him. 

“Hmm. Do you know what else I am?”

“What?”

“A very horny young man,” d’Artagnan said, waiting until Aramis had just taken a drink to do so.

Aramis sputtered, nearly choking on his wine and attempted to glare at the other man. That only made d’Artagnan laugh outright as he plucked the wine bottle from Aramis’ hand and set it safely on the floor. 

Turning toward Aramis, he pulled him into a kiss. He felt the man go pliant and pressed him back until he was laying stretched out on his back on the bed. He tried to keep some of his weight off of him, not wanting him to feel trapped but Aramis wrapped his arms around him and pulled him flush against him making them both moan.

They spent long minutes trading kisses as their hands ran over those parts of the other they could reach. While Aramis had better access since d’Artagnan was on top of him, he kept his touches limited to his back and arms never venturing lower. D’Artagnan was both appreciative and frustrated by his restraint but he didn’t press the issue going only as far as Aramis seemed ready. 

When they finally parted, both of them were flushed and panting. Aramis could feel d’Artagnan’s hardness pressing into his hip and it made his own cock throb in his breeches. He steadfastly ignored it, though, refusing to rush. He needed d’Artagnan to be sure that this was what he truly wanted before things went any further. So far all they had shared were a few heated kisses. Those would be easy enough for the other man to forget even if Aramis himself would never forget them. If things progressed that would not be the case and Aramis needed the younger man to be absolutely sure this was what he wanted first. 

“I can almost hear you thinking,” d’Artagnan teased as he lay down on his side next to him not quite able to stop touching him.

“I’m sure you can,” Aramis chuckled. “I was just thinking that we should probably stop.”

“Why?” D’Artagnan asked. It wasn’t that he wanted to push Aramis into anything but rather that he was curious as to why he was being so hesitant.

“Because I need you to be sure,” Aramis answered honestly. “What we have done so far, that is one thing. To go further, however... I just... I need you to be sure first.”

“I want this,” d’Artagnan told him. “I want you.” He saw Aramis open his mouth and hurried on. “But it has only been a day. A rather wonderful day but still just a day. So we will wait until I can convince you that I want this as much as you do.”

“I do not mean to doubt you,” Aramis said.

“I know that. And you’re not doubting me. You’re trying to protect me. I get it, though I find myself reluctant to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Aramis assured him.

“Promise me you will see me in the morning?” D’Artagnan asked, wanting to make sure Aramis didn’t get it in his head that he would be better off without him. 

“I promise,” Aramis replied, blushing slightly. It would seem the young man understood his nature far too well. It wasn’t that he wanted to run from this but he truly despaired of the damage he might have caused between d’Artagnan and his mentor.

With no small amount of reluctance, d’Artagnan returned to his own rooms for the night. Aramis had wanted to see him off, but d’Artagnan had insisted he stay in bed not wanting him to run into Athos. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to run into the man himself. On the one hand, he didn’t want another confrontation with him but on the other he sorely wanted to hit him again. As luck would have it, the yard was deserted and he made it to his quarters without running into anyone. Laying in his bed alone, he hoped the coming day would be a bit easier on Aramis. The man certainly didn’t deserve such hostility simply for loving him.

As Aramis lay in his bed, he tried to get his mind to quiet enough for sleep to come. He was being less than successful. His unhelpful mind kept regaling him with all the ways this could go wrong. What if Athos turned him in? What if the Captain found out? What if the _King_ found out? He would be hung. Worse still, d’Artagnan would likely be hung as well. That thought was enough to have the fear gnawing at his insides all over again. He didn’t mind so much what happened to him. Not anymore. But he would not allow d’Artagnan to suffer such a fate. Aramis was still running scenarios through his head when sleep finally pulled him under.

The next morning, Aramis awoke with his stomach still tied in knots. He wasn’t sure how he had managed to fall asleep other than sheer emotional exhaustion. As he dressed, the thought of walking out into the courtyard loomed before him. Athos was going to be there, he knew. Porthos, too. While he had not seen any disdainful looks from Porthos, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Porthos did not always show his true feelings. Aramis knew he could very well be as disgusted as Athos and simply hiding it for now.

Knowing he could not stay in his rooms forever, he ventured out into the courtyard and headed toward their customary table. Anything else would have likely drawn unwanted attention. As he got closer, he saw the hard set to Athos’ eyes and had to swallow back the bile that suddenly filled his throat. This was not good. This was not good at all. He was putting d’Artagnan in danger. He was...

“Aramis, breathe,” d’Artagnan said, appearing at Aramis’ side out of nowhere it seemed. He glared at Athos, satisfied when the man looked away then turned his attention back to his would-be lover.

“I’m sorry,” Aramis said softly, his hand gripping d’Artagnan’s arm tightly. 

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing,” d’Artagnan said softly. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

“Someone care to tell me what the hell is going on?” Porthos asked, leaning over the table so his voice did not carry.

“Not particularly,” Athos muttered.

“Tell me anyway,” Porthos said, frowning. He had told himself he was going to stay out of it, that whatever it was it was between Aramis and Athos but he simply couldn’t. Not with Aramis looking like he was going to be sick just at the sight of the man. 

“Not here,” Athos said. He was about to say more when Treville came down the stairs and began handing out assignments for the day. 

“D’Artagnan, you’re excused from duty for one more day. Let’s make sure that head wound is healed. Aramis... what’s wrong with you, man?” Treville frowned darkly as he looked at his marksman. If he didn’t know better he’d think the man was deathly ill.

“Aramis isn’t feeling too well, Captain,” d’Artagnan said.

“Fine. Aramis, you’re excused from duty today as well,” Treville said. “Athos, Porthos, I want you two down patrolling the docks. We’ve had complaints coming in and the king wants them stopped.”

They stayed at the table and watched as Athos and Porthos headed out the front gate. Aramis had been surprised that Athos had yet to confide in Porthos. He would do so today, though. Porthos would insist. Aramis had to wonder if he would lose another of his brothers before this day was over.

“Do not worry so,” d’Artagnan told him. “I doubt Porthos will bat an eye.”

“Probably not,” Aramis agreed. “But he will stand by Athos. If Athos says I go then I go.”

“Athos isn’t going to kick you out. He couldn’t if he wanted to.”

“All he would have to do is tell the Captain,” Aramis pointed out. “Or the Cardinal. Either way I would find myself clapped in irons and thrown into the Bastille. You as well most likely, though I would do everything in my power to prevent that.”

“Athos isn’t going to betray you,” d’Artagnan said, his own stomach knotting painfully. He wasn’t so much worried about what Athos might do as he was about Aramis’ belief of such. 

“Up until yesterday, I would not have doubted that. But after hearing him speak so about me and seeing the anger in his eyes, I have my doubts.”

“If you cannot trust in him then I bid you trust in me,” d’Artagnan said. “He will not betray us. He is angry, yes, but he is still our brother.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Porthos bided his time until they were down in one of the more unsavory areas of the docks. People down here tended to keep their heads down and mind their own business. That was good because Porthos had a feeling they weren’t going to want this particular conversation overheard.

“Spill,” Porthos said tersely once they were suitably alone.

“It would be in your best interest if I did not,” Athos replied.

“Something’s going on,” Porthos insisted. “You’re pissed as hell at Aramis. The Whelp’s pissed right back at you. And Aramis… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look that scared before. So you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

“Very well,” Athos relented knowing he had little choice. If he didn’t answer Porthos’ questions he would likely ask Aramis himself and Athos found he did not want that. That he had made his brother so fearful of him was weighing on him yet he didn’t know what to do to fix things. Not when he was still so angry with Aramis over it all.

“Is it really that bad?” Porthos asked when Athos failed to say anything for long minutes.

“Possibly,” Athos shrugged. Taking Porthos by the arm he moved them into a deserted alley and filled him in on what he knew of the situation. He left nothing out, including the part about Aramis overhearing what he had said to d’Artagnan.

“You really said that about him?” Porthos asked, both stunned and angry.

“Yes,” Athos admitted ashamedly. “I did not mean to. I lost my temper and…”

“And called your closest friend a fucking whore,” Porthos spat.

“Yes, Porthos, I am aware. What I do not know is how to repair the damage I have wrought.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to be easy. Aramis doesn’t care what most people think about him but you aren’t most people. He’s almost as bad as the Whelp when it comes to you.”

“I know,” Athos sighed. “And I have hurt them both deeply over this.”

“What I don’t understand is why. You don’t normally give a fig who Aramis sleeps with.”

“Because it is d’Artagnan,” Athos explained, exasperated. “What happens when he decides he’s done with the boy?”

“You really think he’d do something like that?” Porthos challenged. 

“Aramis changes lover’s more often than he changes shirts,” Athos quipped.

“Not the ones he cares about. If you recall, he was faithful to Adele until she left him for the Cardinal. He’d never enter into something like this with d’Artagnan unless he truly meant it. Now tell me why you really made such a fuss because from where I’m standing it looks like nothing more than jealousy.”

Athos stared at him agape. He was most certainly not _jealous_. Not of Aramis and most certainly not of d’Artagnan. No, what he felt had nothing to do with jealousy. It was fear, plain and simple. 

“Are you not afraid for what might happen to them should they be found out?” Athos whispered urgently. 

“Maybe. A little,” Porthos shrugged. “But that’s what they got us for. To make sure nobody finds out about them. So you need to fix this and soon before they do end up in trouble.”

“I will try,” Athos agreed. “But as you noticed, Aramis is keeping his distance wherever he can. It may not be as easy as you think for me to speak with him.”

“I’ll help. We’ll corner the pair if we have to.”

“Unless you are prepared to defend against d’Artagnan’s blade, I do not know if I would chance that at the moment.” He remembered the slap the boy had given him and the hard glint of protectiveness in his eyes. No, he would not recommend they attempt to corner Aramis. It would likely prove disastrous for all of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

D’Artagnan and Aramis ended up back in Aramis’ rooms, wanting the privacy to speak as they would without worrying about being overheard. D’Artagnan bolted the door again, knowing that it made Aramis feel more at ease. 

Alone again, d’Artagnan wasted no time in pulling Aramis into his arms. He could feel how tense even that short confrontation with Athos had made him and it angered him all over again. Rationally he knew Athos had done nothing more to add to Aramis’ distress but then he hadn’t needed to. The damage had been done and quite thoroughly. Now all that was left was figuring out where to go from here. 

“This is nice,” d’Artagnan said as he held him. He had decided his first order of business was to take every opportunity to reassure Aramis that he wanted this. Maybe if he could alleviate that fear then he could start working on the others.

“It is,” Aramis replied as he snuggled down into the other man’s embrace. He knew they should probably sit down rather than standing about in the middle of the room but he was loathe to move. 

As they stood holding one another, Aramis recalled something d’Artagnan had said the night before. As he thought about it, he realized the young man was right. Other than declaring himself he had made no gesture toward him. Every encounter between them had been at d’Artagnan’s instigation.

Frowning at the thought, Aramis raised his head and looked at the young man in his arms. D’Artagnan’s dark eyes were soft with affection and Aramis thought he could detect some small amount of lust. Telling himself he was being foolish but steeling himself for a rebuke anyway, he slowly leaned forward and brushed his lips against the other man’s.

D’Artagnan felt arousal slam through him as Aramis gently kissed him. It was the first gesture the man had made it and made him want to grab him and throw him down on the bed so he could kiss him the way he truly wanted to. He held back, though, knowing Aramis wasn’t quite ready for that just yet. Instead, he moaned softly and parted his lips letting him know that he was more than welcome to deepen their kiss if he chose.

Aramis felt d’Artagnan’s lips part and couldn’t help but deepen their kiss. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and suckled it much the same way d’Artagnan had done to him. Before he could stop himself, his tongue carefully pressed into his lover’s mouth and he moaned softly as he tasted him for the first time. 

For his part, d’Artagnan gently stroked his tongue along Aramis’ relishing the feel of it. He was accustomed to being the more aggressive partner and it felt strange at first to feel the other man’s strong tongue pressing against his. The strangeness quickly morphed into desire as he gave himself over to it, knowing he could trust his brother as much in this as he did in everything else. 

Reluctantly, Aramis pulled back, placing a soft kiss to d’Artagnan’s lips as he rested their foreheads together. “I love you,” Aramis whispered, his breath mingling with d’Artagnan’s own. 

“No more so than I do you,” d’Artagnan replied, surprised to realize it was true. He may have started out unsure of his feelings for his brother but he wasn’t any longer. 

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis moaned, his body thrumming at the other man’s words. He wanted so badly to pull him into his arms and kiss him senseless but he held back.

“I want you,” d’Artagnan told him. “So much. My body, it aches for your touch.”

“Please...” Aramis begged though he had no idea what exactly he was begging for. Did he want d’Artagnan to stop or to go on?

“Can we... can we lie down on the bed again?” D’Artagnan asked. He needed to feel this man against him. Even if they kept their clothes on, he needed to feel him in his arms, pressing against him.

“Of course,” Aramis said at once and they quickly stripped down to their shirts and breeches once more. 

When they climbed on the bed this time, d’Artagnan lay down on his back and pulled Aramis atop him, wanting to feel as much of the other man as he could. When he felt Aramis’ body pressing him into the mattress he couldn’t hold back a moan as he wrapped his arms around him so he could not pull away.

As they kissed and touched, Aramis felt himself growing hard. He tried not to grind against the other man but it was impossible not to. He felt d’Artagnan moan into their kiss when he pressed his swelling prick into his hip and that spurred him on. Soon their hands were running over as much of each other as they could reach, stroking arms and backs and buttocks as they kissed wetly. 

“We... we have to stop,” Aramis gasped when he finally managed to pull his mouth away. He was so hard he ached and a quick glance down his lover’s body showed him to be in similar straits. 

“Why?” D’Artagnan asked as he tried to pull Aramis back into their kiss.

“Because if we don’t we will not,” Aramis reasoned. 

“Still don’t see the problem,” d’Artagnan replied.

“I do not wish to simply tumble you into bed,” Aramis said as he pushed himself up so he could look down into his lover’s face. “You mean something to me, d’Artagnan. I would have you know that before things go further between us.”

“I do know that,” d’Artagnan said then sighed. “But I understand your reluctance. You’re not ready. You need no more reason than that.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want to...”

“I know. But this is a big step. For both of us. And I know you’ve never done anything with a man before. Be as cautious as you feel you need to, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

Once again the lover’s reluctantly parted. Aramis thought it prudent that d’Artagnan be in his own rooms before the others returned from patrol. D’Artagnan had tried to argue but Aramis had insisted. In the end, he had not wanted to give him yet another reason to be fearful of Athos so had done as he had asked and returned to his own quarters. 

When Athos and Porthos returned to the garrison that evening they had hoped to find their brothers waiting for them. Seeing their table deserted made something in Athos twist painfully. He had not meant to give such offense to either Aramis or d’Artagnan. That he had done so to both ate at him.

“We’ll fix it,” Porthos said quietly when he saw the flash of pain wash over Athos’ face. In truth, the sight of the deserted table had upset him as well but berating Athos over it would do none of them any good. They needed to find a way to fix this not heap more recriminations on one another. 

The pair quickly gave their report to the Captain then hurried back down the stairs. As much as Athos yearned to talk to Aramis he knew better than to try to approach him first. D’Artagnan would not take such a move on his part well, likely seeing it as yet another attack on the man. Considering all of the errors he had made so far he could ill afford another. 

“Whelp or Aramis?” Porthos asked as they stood at the foot of the stairs.

“D’Artagnan,” Athos told him before squaring his shoulders and turning toward the young man’s quarters. 

“Alright. You talk to the Whelp while I go try to talk to Aramis. And Athos, watch your temper this time.” With that Porthos headed toward Aramis’ rooms leaving Athos to try to mend things with d’Artagnan.

Normally, Athos would have simply walked in, not bothering to knock. He was not altogether positive that d’Artagnan was alone, however. Nor was he altogether sure of the reception he might get. The last time he and the lad had spoken things had grown... heated.

As he knocked on the door and waited, Athos felt himself growing nervous. He could feel the curious stares of the few men loitering about the courtyard but he refused to acknowledge them. Let them think what they would. All that mattered at the moment was repairing the damage he had wrought with his fear and, if he was completely honest, jealousy. Porthos had not been that far off the mark earlier. Part of his anger had been driven by jealousy. 

“Yes?” D’Artagnan said when he opened the door. He had known it was Athos and had considered not answering. He had a feeling the man would just stand there until he did, though, so gave in and answered the door.

“May I come in?” Athos asked when d’Artagnan made no move to allow him so much as a glance inside. He saw the hesitation on his face and felt ashamed anew. “I would like very much to speak with you.”

“Fine,” d’Artagnan said, stepping aside and allowing Athos to enter. “But if you say anything about Aramis I’ll toss you out on your ear.”

Athos nodded and took off his hat as he waited for d’Artagnan to close the door. Once they were safely alone, he turned to face his young protégé. All day long he had thought about what he would say if given the chance. Now that he was here, however, words failed him.

“Did you plan on saying anything or did you just come to stand in my rooms?” D’Artagnan asked, his voice clipped and angry despite his best efforts.

“I’m sorry,” Athos said. “I had thought all day about what I wanted to say to you and now... now all that comes to mind is I’m sorry.”

“You know Aramis heard what you said, right?”

“I am aware, yes,” Athos replied. “I would make my apologies to him as well but thought it best if I spoke with you first. Please believe me when I say I did not mean my words yesterday. I was, well, I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” D’Artagnan repeated skeptically. 

“Yes,” Athos nodded. “If the two of you are found out it will mean the hangman’s noose for you. I know Aramis would do his best to have you spared but it would still be a death sentence for him. I have no wish to watch one of my dearest friends hang.”

“Dearest friends? If this is how you treat your friends, Athos, it is a wonder you have any at all,” d’Artagnan spat. He saw Athos flinch and took a deep breath. Berating the man wasn’t going to solve anything and he was at least trying to make amends. 

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan said. “I did not mean that.”

“Yes, you did,” Athos said sadly. “And you are right. I know I have harmed what lies between us. Just as I have harmed what lies between Aramis and I. I tell you now I will do everything in my power to make amends if you will but let me.”

“You know he’s actually afraid you might turn him in,” d’Artagnan said. He wasn’t trying to be hurtful but he needed Athos to know what he was up against. 

“What?” Athos gasped, aghast at the very thought.

“He thinks you’re disgusted with him. And after what you said... He’s scared to death, Athos. He has been since this whole mess started.”

“Porthos... Porthos has gone to speak with him,” Athos said, his mind awhirl. “If I may, I would like to speak with him as well. If you would prefer to be there at the time, I understand.”

“That might be for the best. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’m not sure he’ll stick around if you try to talk to him alone,” d’Artagnan said. 

“When do you think...”

“Tomorrow,” d’Artagnan said. “If Porthos is talking to him tonight I’m not sure he’ll be up to talking to you, too. He, uh, he wasn’t too sure whose side Porthos was going to be on in all of this.”

“He thought Porthos would betray him, too?” Athos nearly moaned.

“He knows how close you and Porthos are. He felt Porthos would be loyal to you first.”

“Tomorrow then,” Athos said though he didn’t like it. The knowledge that Aramis was hurting tore at him and he wanted to fix it. Now. 

“I’ll tell you when. Okay?”

“Of course,” Athos agreed at once. “D’Artagnan, thank you. That you would forgive such atrocious behavior from me...”

“You’re my brother, Athos. You’re Aramis’ brother, too. When the time comes, he’ll remember that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Porthos took a steadying breath then rapped smartly on Aramis’ door. Like Athos, he would have normally just walked in but he had seen how agitated Aramis was this morning. The last thing they needed was to have to explain how he had ended up getting shot.

He was just starting to worry when Aramis finally opened the door. The fear he saw in his brother’s eyes had him clenching his fists in renewed anger but he did his best not to show it. Aramis was already on edge. 

“Hey, brother. Mind if I come in?” Porthos asked, careful to keep his voice light.

“Come in, of course,” Aramis said nervously as he held the door open. 

Porthos came in and tossed his hat down on the table the same as he always did before pulling out a chair. He tried not to frown as he watched Aramis bustle about pulling out a bottle of wine and two cups. He didn’t say anything, waiting for his brother to join him.

Wine in hand, Aramis finally sat down opposite Porthos. He poured them both a generous cup and drained half of his in one long gulp. He could tell Porthos was watching him and it made him itchy in a way Porthos’ scrutiny never did. 

“Easy, brother,” Porthos said, unable to keep silent any longer. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

Aramis took a deep breath and set his mug down with a nod. “You wished to speak to me?”

“Yeah,” Porthos sighed. “Athos told me what’s going on.” He saw Aramis’ eyes widen in alarm and quickly reached out to clasp his hand. “It’s okay, brother. Athos... he knows he screwed up. He didn’t mean to lose his temper like that.”

“I find that somewhat hard to believe,” Aramis said, his eyes fixed on Porthos’ hand holding his. 

“Well, it’s the truth,” Porthos told him. “But I didn’t really come here to talk about Athos.”

“Then why did you come?”

“To make sure you understood that things between me and you were still okay. I seen the way you looked at Athos and I seen the way you looked at me, too. I know you’re scared, Aramis. I guess I can’t really fault you for that. But one thing you don’t have to be afraid of is me.”

“You are Athos’ closest friend. If he no longer wishes to associate with me...”

“Then I guess he’s not gonna be associatin’ with me either,” Porthos told him. “You’re my friend, Aramis. The best friend I ever had. I’m not gonna turn my back on you. So whatever it is you’re scared of, it doesn’t need to be me. Okay?”

Aramis had to swallow twice before he could get his voice to work. “Okay,” he finally managed. Porthos’ earnest words had eased some of the wild fear within him. At least he could still count Porthos among his brothers. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning found Aramis a great deal more at ease than he expected. It seemed Porthos’ words from the night before had done more to calm his fears than he realized. His brothers were, after all, all he had. To lose them would wound him to the very core. 

As he dressed, he felt some of the previous day’s nervousness returning. Though things between him and Porthos might be alright, he still had to deal with Athos. That was a proposition he was not looking forward to in the least. Porthos had said Athos had merely lost his temper but Aramis knew it was more than that. Athos was one of the most tightly controlled men Aramis had ever known. For him to lose his temper in such a way was a sign of something seriously amiss.

Knowing nothing would be gained by hiding in his rooms, Aramis donned his weapons and hat and headed out into the courtyard. He saw Porthos already seated at their table and smiled. His brother was not known for being early but he had obviously made it a point to be today. Aramis, though slightly embarrassed at his neediness, was nevertheless grateful. 

“Morning,” Porthos said as Aramis sat down beside him. 

“Good morning,” Aramis replied, smiling. “Thank you for this.”

“I’m here for you, brother. However you need me to be.”

“This really doesn’t bother you?” Aramis asked, needing to know. He had not dared ask Porthos last night.

“What? You and the boy? No,” Porthos replied. “For one thing, it’s not my business. Besides, you’re not hurting anyone. Why shouldn’t you be happy?”

“Thank you, my friend. You have no idea how much your words mean to me.”

They spent a while idly talking until Porthos caught sight of Athos entering the courtyard. He sat up a bit straighter causing Aramis to look up in time to see Athos hesitate for a moment before heading toward them. 

As Athos neared, d’Artagnan darted out of his quarters and fell into step with him. Aramis felt relieved at the sight of his lover but he felt embarrassed, too. He had never been one to run from a fight and at the moment it felt like he was hiding behind the other man, using him as a shield to protect him from Athos’ wrath. 

Watching them near, Aramis realized that the tension of yesterday was gone from d’Artagnan. While he still appeared anxious, he was not visibly angry with the other man any longer. Aramis silently prayed that was a good sign and not the harbinger of the young man telling him he had decided against their relationship after all.

“Don’t look so worried,” Porthos whispered. “I told you everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Considering how angry Athos has been about the whole thing, I am having difficulty believing that.”

“Trust me, brother,” Porthos said as he squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. 

When Athos arrived at the table he stopped. “Good morning,” he said softly. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he might join them but he refrained, sitting down across from Porthos as he usually did. He had wanted to take the seat across from Aramis but wasn’t sure how he would take that. Besides, he rather thought that spot should go to d’Artagnan.

“Good morning,” d’Artagnan echoed as he sat down as well. He tried to reassure Aramis as best he could with a look. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do in broad daylight in the middle of the garrison courtyard. 

Athos was about to attempt to broach the subject when Treville came down the stairs to give out the morning assignments. He sent the four of them back down to the docks, something that Athos was quietly grateful for. It wasn’t the best, but it was the most privacy they were likely to get outside of one of their quarters. 

None of them spoke as they headed out. Without conscious thought, Porthos and Athos moved to flank the pair, Athos beside d’Artagnan and Porthos next to Aramis. It wasn’t how they normally operated but they all knew that Aramis was off his game and d’Artagnan was simply too worried for him to be as mindful as he should. 

Porthos led them back down to the same alley that he and Athos had talked in the day before. He knew it wasn’t exactly private but it would at least give Athos a chance to start making amends with Aramis. Assuming the man would let him, of course. For as forgiving as Aramis was, he had been deeply hurt by Athos’ cruel words.

“Why are we stopping here?” Aramis asked anxiously. 

“I would like to speak with you for a moment, if you do not mind,” Athos said. He saw Aramis tense at his words and felt a fresh wave of remorse. His brother had not deserved to be treated so shabbily by him. Aramis was a good man. He would never do anything to intentionally hurt one of them and he should have known that.

“I really don’t see the need...” Aramis said, going so far as to take a step back toward the mouth of the alley.

“It’s alright, Aramis,” d’Artagnan said, knowing he was probably the only one that Aramis might listen to right now. 

“If you cannot countenance such from me right now, I will understand,” Athos said. “I have done wrong by you. Grievously so. I wish I had a way to somehow take back the thoughtless words I spoke, but I do not. I can only tell you I am more sorry than you know and do my utmost to make amends.”

“Why are you saying this?” Aramis asked, surprised and confused by Athos’ sudden about face. 

“Because it is the truth,” Athos replied. “But I can see you do not believe me. I cannot blame you. After what the way I acted I would not believe me either.”

“If Porthos has somehow put you up to this...”

“Porthos has nothing to do with it,” Athos said firmly. “He demanded to know what was going on. I explained it to him. He was... cross with me for how I had behaved and rightly so. But Aramis, I had already realized how badly I had erred. I did not need Porthos to point it out to me.”

“I want to believe you,” Aramis said, his voice breaking. “But I know your opinion of whores. How you have put up with me for this long...”

“You are no whore,” Athos said, his hands clenching into fists. 

“You certainly thought me one two days ago,” Aramis challenged, though there was no fire in his words.

“No, I did not,” Athos countered. “I have never thought you a whore regardless of my angry words. I was... I was afraid and I took that fear out on you. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

“What were _you_ afraid of?” Aramis asked, frowning in confusion.

“What you propose, it is dangerous. If you are found out, it would mean your death. I did not want to see you put yourself at such risk. Either of you.”

“I can understand that, I suppose,” Aramis said. He could, too. After all, it was one of the things that still scared him the most, the thought of something happening to d’Artagnan because of all this. Something didn’t feel quite right, though. There was still something Athos wasn’t telling him.

“I know I do not deserve it, but I would do anything to make amends with you,” Athos went on. “You are my brother and, as I told d’Artagnan, my dearest friend. That I have hurt you so grievously wounds me.”

“I... I don’t know what to say,” Aramis admitted. 

“Fair enough,” Athos said, his disappointment clear. “I will not stop trying to earn your forgiveness, though. I meant what I said. You are my brother.”

They continued on their patrol after that. Aramis put Athos’ words out of his head for the time being. There would be time enough to pray over them later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on the job at hand. 

Athos wished he could say he felt better for speaking to Aramis but, in truth, he didn’t. His brother did not trust him or his words. Athos could not fault him for that. After what he had said, he deserved Aramis’ mistrust. He was willing to work for his forgiveness but Aramis had to be willing to let him as well.

Treville was waiting for them when they returned to the garrison that evening. Now that d’Artagnan was on his feet again, he wanted to send them back out to make sure they had cleared the area of bandits. He was fairly certain they had but men like that were opportunists. If they saw an opening, they would take it and he wanted to make sure no one else got the bright idea to start waylaying people on that road.

Done for the day, Athos and Porthos tried to get the other two to join them at the tavern for dinner but Aramis had politely declined. With Aramis unwilling to go, d’Artagnan begged off as well and the two were forced to once again leave without their brothers.

“Give it some time,” Porthos consoled. “You’ve said your piece and so have I. Now we have to give him time to believe it.”

“Not so long ago he would have believed us without hesitation,” Athos pointed out knowing he was the one to blame for Aramis’ mistrust.

“You made a mistake,” Porthos shrugged. “And so did I by not stepping in sooner. I knew something was wrong but I thought you two idiots would work it out. I’ll know better next time.”

“There will not be a next time,” Athos said, slightly alarmed at the thought. He never wanted there to be a time like this again. His brothers were his world and this rift with Aramis was like a slowly turning knife in his belly.

“I know,” Porthos said quickly. “I just meant if you two ever had a misunderstanding again. I know you won’t be so foolish a second time. Now come on. I think we could both do with a bit of drink tonight.”

Back at the garrison, Aramis and d’Artagnan went to the young man’s quarters. Aramis was still leery of anyone suspecting anything and another night spent shut in together in his quarters could rouse suspicions. Not that locking themselves in d’Artagnan’s quarters was much better but at least it was a change.

“You could have gone with them,” Aramis said once they were safely inside.

“I would rather spend my evening with you,” he shrugged as they both stripped down to their shirts and breeches.

Without thought the pair moved together, wrapping each other in their arms and holding on. Aramis felt the last of his tension bleed away at the feel of those strong arms encircling him and finally relaxed. Safely away from prying eyes, d’Artagnan was able to relax as well, enjoying the feeling of Aramis against him.

“This feels good,” d’Artagnan said after a few minutes.

“It does,” Aramis agreed, sighing softly. He leaned back a bit so he could look the other man in the face. What he saw there made his stomach flip but not in fear this time. 

Brining his hands up, he cradled d’Artagnan’s face between them before leaning in and kissing him deeply. Gone was the hesitation of the last few days. He had finally seen what he needed to in his lover’s eyes and it made him ache to lay him out and kiss him from head to foot.

“Aramis,” d’Artagnan moaned when Aramis released his mouth and began kissing all along his jaw. Aramis had never been this bold with him before and it thrilled him to finally be on the receiving end of his lover’s ardor. 

“Want you,” Aramis murmured as he kissed all up and down d’Artagnan’s neck. He could feel himself hardening as the younger man moaned and shivered in his arms. It spurred him on and he began backing them toward d’Artagnan’s bed.

“Have me,” d’Artagnan told him as he allowed himself to be maneuvered down. He pulled Aramis down after him, refusing to relinquish his hold. 

Aramis followed him willingly, pressing his body against the other man’s, eager for him to feel his hardness this time. He was rewarded by his lover pulling him in even tighter and pushing his own hardness against his hip. 

“I want...” Aramis began, trailing off to spread open the vee of d’Artagnan’s shirt and press sucking kisses to the newly revealed skin.

“What?” D’Artagnan gasped.

“To suck you,” Aramis whispered as he drug his teeth over the bit of skin he had just been kissing.

D’Artagnan gasped then moaned, Aramis’ words stoking the fire inside of him into a roaring blaze. His breeches felt fit to bursting and he squirmed, wanting out of his restrictive clothing. 

Aramis drew back and looked down at the other man. He could see the want in his eyes and it emboldened him. Looking down his body, he saw his hardness straining and couldn’t resist reaching down to cup him through his leathers. 

“Ung... Please,” d’Artagnan moaned as he pressed upward into Aramis’ hand. He was rewarded when that hand squeezed and stroked him before starting in on the buttons holding him imprisoned.

Not wanting any barrier between them, d’Artagnan began clumsily working at the ties on his shirt. He was just pulling it over his head when Aramis finished undoing his breeches and smalls. He sucked in a breath as the man quickly worked them down his hips and off, dropping them over the side of the bed without care.

“You are magnificent,” Aramis whispered as he took a moment to simply look at his lover. He had seen the young man unclothed before but never like this. Never flushed and aroused and his for the taking. 

“You are the magnificent one,” d’Artagnan gasped. The way Aramis was looking at him was making his stomach flip and his cock ache. He had seen the want in his eyes before but not to such a degree. Aramis looked like he wanted to eat him alive. Remembering what he said he wanted, d’Artagnan realized that he did.

“Can I suck you?” Aramis asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” d’Artagnan moaned, spreading his legs in invitation. “God, yes.”

Aramis didn’t waste any time after that. He quickly shucked off his own shirt so that he could feel as much of the other man’s skin as he could then moved in between d’Artagnan’s spread legs. 

Once he was between d’Artagnan’s legs, Aramis paused. He had never done this before and wasn’t quite sure where to start. Deciding to simply do what he liked best, he reached down and carefully wrapped his hand around the base of d’Artagnan’s prick. Encouraged by the way his lover moaned and spread his legs wider still, Aramis bent forward and licked a wide stripe up the length of him.

D’Artagnan had to bite his hand to keep from shouting at the first touch of Aramis’ tongue against him. It felt amazing. It was wider than a woman’s and stronger. Even hesitant, Aramis acted more boldly than most doing this for the first time and d’Artagnan had to fight to keep still.

Gratified by his response, Aramis repeated the action, this time licking over the damp head. He moaned himself at the sharp taste of the other man. He began mouthing his way from the base up then, licking and sucking as he went until he reached the head once more. This time he didn’t stop with using his tongue but opened his mouth and sucked the head of his lover’s cock inside for the first time.

D’Artagnan couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up and shoving his hard cock deep into Aramis’ mouth causing him to choke and pull back. Aramis quickly pressed his hips back down to the bed and once more sucked him into his mouth. Holding him in place, he began to work his way down, taking more and more of him inside his mouth. He didn’t stop until he felt the head of his cock bump the back of his throat. 

For his part, d’Artagnan was biting his hand and moaning as he tried unsuccessfully to hold still. Aramis was driving him out of his mind with his mouth and he didn’t know how much longer he was going to last. Feeling his release fast approaching and not wanting to spill in his lover’s mouth, he reached down and tugged at Aramis’ hair trying to pull him away.

Aramis, however, refused to give up his prize. He tightened his grip on d’Artagnan’s hips and took him in as far as he could, sucking hard. He felt the younger man suddenly go still before giving a muffled shout as the flesh in his mouth began to pulse hotly. 

He tried to swallow but it was hard to do so with d’Artagnan’s cock still in his mouth. When his lover finally collapsed back on the bed, finished, Aramis let his still-hard cock slide from his mouth and swallowed the remains of his release.

Spent, but needing Aramis closer, d’Artagnan reached out and pulled him up beside him. He shivered when Aramis wrapped his arms around him and pulled his back against his chest. He still had the presence of mind to realize that he had not seen to his lover’s needs yet but he needed a moment first. He could feel Aramis’ hardness pressing into him but the man seemed in no rush to do anything about it. 

“You are still hard,” Aramis whispered into his ear, his hand brushing d’Artagnan’s erection. He was surprised considering how hard the lad had spent himself.

“After these last few days did you truly think I would be sated with a single taste of you,” d’Artagnan managed, his voice thick. He turned over so he was facing Aramis and quickly pulled him into a deep kiss, moaning softly at the taste of himself in the other man’s mouth. 

“Tell me what you want,” Aramis panted when they finally broke apart.

“To make you happy,” d’Artagnan replied.

“You are,” Aramis told him. “More than you can imagine. Now tell me how I might please you.”

“I want to fuck you,” d’Artagnan admitted boldly. He felt Aramis tense slightly and tightened his arms. “But I understand if you are not ready for that yet. We can wait.”

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “If that is what you want…”

“Only if you want it, too,” d’Artagnan said. “It’s a big step. We don’t have to do that yet. We can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait,” Aramis told him. “I believe I have made both of us wait quite long enough. I love you, d’Artagnan. I want to be with you. In every way. Do you, ah, know what to do?”

“I know the gist of it,” d’Artagnan told him. “If you’re sure then I just need the oil from my bureau.”

“I’m sure.”

D’Artagnan kissed him again then rose to retrieve the oil he had purchased in the market when Aramis wasn’t looking. He hadn’t wanted to presume but he had been hopeful and wanted to be prepared. He certainly didn’t want a lack of something to ease the way to be the thing that stopped them. 

Returning to the bed, d’Artagnan set the oil on the nightstand and knelt next to Aramis. He saw the hint of trepidation in his eyes and leaned down and kissed him before sitting up and starting in on his breeches. When Aramis moved to help him, he gently batted his hands away and slowly undressed him. 

Once Aramis was naked, d’Artagnan stretched out beside him. He laid on his side and maneuvered Aramis until he was doing the same, the man’s back pressed to his front this time. Reaching down, he grasped his thigh and gently lifted his leg bringing it to rest over his own hip so that Aramis was spread open. 

He felt his lover shiver as he raised his leg to spread him wider still and wormed one arm around him as he reached for the oil with the other. He carefully coated his fingers before setting it aside again then reached between his lover’s legs. He felt Aramis start when he brushed his fingers over his hole for the first time and stilled, giving him a moment to grow accustomed to the feeling. When he relaxed once more he began slowly moving his fingers up and down his cleft, spreading the oil around. 

“I’m going to push my finger in now,” d’Artagnan told him. He waited for Aramis to nod before slowly pressing his finger inside of him. He had to bite his lip when he felt Aramis’ tight heat engulfing him and the long, low moan it pulled from the man only made it worse.

“D’Artagnan...” Aramis moaned as he felt his lover breech his body for the first time. 

Feeling his lover’s body clenching down on him, d’Artagnan began kissing and nibbling at his neck in hopes of relaxing him. It had the desired effect, making Aramis quickly go lax and boneless. Encouraged, he moved his finger in and out, stretching and loosening the ring of muscle until his finger moved freely. 

“Ready for another?” D’Artagnan asked, his voice thick with arousal.

“Please,” Aramis begged, his own body on fire from what the other man was doing to him. He had never felt such things before. It was almost more than he could take and it was only the lad’s fingers.

With a nod, d’Artagnan pulled his finger out and carefully pressed back in with two. He moved slowly, giving Aramis time to adjust. Soon, however, he was fucking his fingers into him easily. 

“Please, d’Artagnan,” Aramis gasped as he pushed back against his lover’s hand.  
Please. I’m ready.”

“Alright,” d’Artagnan said, his own cock hard and aching.

Taking up the oil again, d’Artagnan slicked his cock then lifted Aramis’ thigh spreading him wide. He heard him gasp when he pressed the head of his cock against his hole then he was pressing forward causing both of them to moan as he sank inside him for the first time.

Aramis moaned and shook as d’Artagnan’s thick cock breeched him. Once inside him, his lover didn’t stop, sinking all the way to the root in one long push. Aramis felt like he couldn’t breathe, like d’Artagnan’s cock was forcing all of the air out of his lungs as it pushed up inside his guts. It left him feeling taken in a way he never had before, in a way he had never even realized possible.

“Talk to me,” d’Artagnan said when he finally stilled. He could feel Aramis shaking in his arms as the man’s body clenched down on his cock. 

“Oh God,” Aramis gasped as he tried to ride out the feelings that threatened to swamp him.

“Do you need me to stop?” D’Artagnan asked suddenly worried.

“No,” Aramis said quickly, his hands tightening on the arm that d’Artagnan had wrapped around him. “Just... just give me a moment.”

Slowly, Aramis’ body began to relax around him. D’Artagnan refused to move, holding himself still until his lover finally stopped shaking. By the time Aramis had calmed, he was ready to start shaking himself, his muscles tight and corded from holding himself still despite his body’s urge to move.

With Aramis’ body finally accepting him, d’Artagnan carefully drew back his hips and slowly thrust forward. Aramis’ hands clamped down on his arm once more but he did not pull away. Quite the opposite, in fact, pressing back into him and driving his cock that much deeper.

Aramis couldn’t stop a moan from escaping as he felt d’Artagnan’s cock push even deeper inside of him. He felt positively plundered by the man, his body utterly d’Artagnan’s for the taking even as the lad slowly drew back his hips and thrust inside him once more. 

“Please…” Aramis gasped, d’Artagnan’s heavy cock making him gasp and moan with every careful push.

“What?” d’Artagnan asked breathlessly. 

“Fuck me,” Aramis moaned, lifting his leg as wide as he could.

Unable to deny Aramis and not wanting to besides, d’Artagnan began to do as he said. He moved slowly, gradually picking up the pace until he was fucking his lover with long, deep strokes. He let his hand trail down to Aramis’ groin then and wrapped his hand around his lover’s flushed and weeping cock. 

Aramis gave a shout and pushed forward into d’Artagnan’s hand as much as he could. He was on fire. The feel of his lover taking him in hand as he took his body was almost too much and he could feel his release approaching. Without thought, Aramis began to move, pushing back into his lover’s thrusts as he gave himself over to the pleasure of their coupling. 

D’Artagnan knew he couldn’t last much longer, not with Aramis moving as he was, meeting his thrusts as he fucked him. He tightened his grip on his cock and began to move his hand faster, needing to make Aramis spill first. He was rewarded a few seconds later as he lover gave a shout and began to spend, his cock jerking in his hand as d’Artagnan stroked him through his release. 

With Aramis seen to, d’Artagnan gave himself over to his own pleasure. He could feel his lover’s body still clenching down on him as he continued to fuck him. Feeling that tight, hot channel gripping him so was more than he could take and he thrust in deep, burying himself to the root as he spilled himself.

Aramis felt d’Artagnan thrust into him deeply and still. A moment later he realized that his lover was spilling his seed _inside_ of him and began to shiver as d’Artagnan’s cock pulsed within him.

Spent, d’Artagnan simply held Aramis for a moment as he tried to get his breath back. Ever so slowly, he drew back, sliding his softening cock free. He heard Aramis hiss in discomfort and placed a soft kiss to his shoulder. Once he was all the way out, he gently turned his lover over so they were facing each other and pulled him into a deep kiss. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis was nervous. He remembered what happened the last time they had patrolled this area. He had no desire to see d’Artagnan on his knees with a knife at his throat ever again. Or either of his other brothers for that matter. Things between him and Athos might still be somewhat strained but that did not mean he did not still love him dearly. 

As they made their way through the area looking for any sign of bandits, Aramis kept an eye on his brothers. He could tell that d’Artagnan was not overly concerned, perhaps thinking that lightning could not strike twice as it were. Porthos was equally relaxed if vigilant for any signs of their quarry. Athos, however, was quite the opposite. Like Aramis, he appeared to be on high alert as if expecting a band of brigands to spring out at them at any second. Aramis was somewhat surprised. While he knew he had been worried for d’Artagnan the last time he had not thought the incident had affected him so greatly. 

Unable not to respond to his brother’s fear, Aramis nudged his horse closer until he was riding beside him. “Do you sense something?” he asked, wondering if he might have missed some sign.

“No,” Athos admitted sheepishly. He knew there was no reason for such concern but he also knew, of all of them, Aramis would not hold it against him. 

“Then what is it?” Aramis asked quietly.

“This feels… wrong,” Athos said, groping for a way to explain himself. 

Aramis started to ask him how but he never got the chance. Out of nowhere, shots rang out on either side of them startling them and their horses. Aramis made a grab for the pommel as his mount reared but his hand slipped off of it and he found himself landing hard on the ground, his horse’s hoof grazing the side of his head and leaving him dazed. 

He heard Athos shout but it sounded far away as he rolled onto his hands and knees. The ground swayed sickeningly and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to quell the nausea that threatened to overtake him. 

Aramis had just started to push himself to his feet when his leg was kicked out from under him. He cried out and would have fallen but a hand fisted in his hair and jerked him upright. Before he truly realized what was happening, Aramis found himself suddenly on his knees a blade at his throat as blood ran down the side of his face.

Athos thought his heart would stop when he looked across the field and saw Aramis. He had heard his brother cry out and turned only to see him on his knees with a knife at his throat. It was that day in the clearing all over again, almost to the letter, except this time Aramis was in the one in peril.

Without a second thought, Athos moved toward them intent on taking his brother back. He froze when he saw the man jerk Aramis’ head back harder and dig the knife into his throat. Fear, thick and cloying, clawed at his insides as he stared at the man holding his brother hostage. 

“Drop your weapons,” the man said. 

“Let him go or die,” Athos countered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword as his heart tried to crawl up his throat. 

“Take another step and I’ll slit his throat,” the man spat as he dug the knife in deeper still causing a thin rivulet of blood to run down Aramis’ neck.

“Harm him and you will not leave this clearing alive.” Athos kept his eyes on the man not daring to look away though he was almost desperate to know where Porthos and d’Artagnan were. He could only hope they were circling around to line up a shot. 

“I don’t think so,” the man sneered. “I think my men could kill you while I slit this one’s throat.”

“I will kill you where you stand,” Athos growled. He was barely keeping himself from shaking as his heart tried to pound right out of his chest. He let his eyes drop to Aramis for a fraction of a second and what he saw there nearly made his knees go weak.

“Stand down, Athos,” Aramis said weakly. His head felt like it was going to explode and nausea rolled through him in waves. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t afraid, though. At least not for himself. 

“No,” Athos said through gritted teeth as fear greater than he had ever known threatened to choke him.

“Both of us need not die here,” Aramis reasoned, trying to get through to his brother before he did something stupid. “d’Artagnan… d’Artagnan needs you.”

“Be quiet,” Athos snapped. He refused to listen to this. He refused to listen to Aramis tell him to simply turn away and let him die. They were _brothers_! Didn’t Aramis realize he would rather die himself than lose him?

Aramis stared across the short distance taking in the wildness in Athos’ eyes. His brother looked terrified, more afraid than Aramis had ever seen him before. It gave him pause for surely Athos could not be so scared for his sake. But he was. Worse still, he was acting as if dying here with him was somehow better than walking away without him.

“Athos… no,” Aramis whispered, awe-struck by his realization. On the heels of that awe came the fear. Athos was not backing down. His brother was going to get himself killed because of him. 

All at once, Aramis’ horrible fear turned to white-hot rage. No! He had not lost d’Artagnan to the likes of these miscreants. He was not going to lose Athos to such. Gathering his wits as best he could, he threw himself backward slamming his body into the man holding him and sending them both tumbling to the ground. 

Athos didn’t hesitate. He charged forward, dropping two of the men before they even realized what was happening. Shots rang out and two more fell as Porthos and d’Artagnan rushed toward them from the tree line. Spinning around, Athos saw Aramis on his back struggling weakly against the man with the knife. Three angry strides was all it took and Athos was ramming his sword through the man, twisting it brutally before yanking it free again. 

The ride back to the garrison was slow. Aramis had insisted they stay and make sure there were no other bandits still lurking about. He did not want to have to come back out here again, he had said. D’Artagnan had ridden with him, not trusting him to stay upright in the saddle on his own after everything. Aramis hadn’t objected. In truth, he felt decided woozy. Besides, he wasn’t going to complain about d’Artagnan’s arms around him. 

Athos had tried to ride in the lead but he found himself looking over his shoulder at the pair so often he nearly unseated himself. Porthos had snorted and ridden up telling him to stop being an idiot. After that, he fell back and rode next to the pair, the sight of Aramis whole and safe finally easing the desperate fear inside of him. 

To say Treville was put out when they returned to the garrison was putting it mildly. He immediately dispatched another contingent of Musketeers to the area determined to make sure it was bandit-free for good. Athos hadn’t objected, more concerned with his brothers than anything else at the moment. 

Sitting at their table, Porthos watched as d’Artagnan helped Aramis to his quarters. He wasn’t surprised when the boy didn’t come out again, glad he wasn’t leaving Aramis on his own after that blow to the head. What he was less than pleased about, however, was the man sitting next to him looking across the yard forlornly. 

“Is there a reason you’re still sitting here?” Porthos asked in exasperation.

“D’Artagnan is seeing to him,” Athos replied, his eyes never leaving Aramis’ door. “They don’t need me.”

“You’re his brother, Athos,” Porthos said softly. “He’s always going to need you. And even if he doesn’t need you, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you there. You know Aramis always rests better when you’re close, especially when he’s hurt.”

“He has d’Artagnan now,” Athos reasoned.

“Is that why you were so upset about it?” Porthos asked. “Did you think the boy was taking your place?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There was no place to take.”

“Now you’re just being stupid. Of course there was. But the Whelp isn’t pushing you out. There’s still plenty of room at Aramis’ side for you.”

“You truly do not think they will mind my company?” Athos asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice. Aramis wasn’t the only one who rested easier when they were together. “I have no wish to intrude.”

“You won’t be intruding,” Porthos told him. “Now go on before I haul you over there myself.”

Athos took a breath, steeling himself before knocking sharply on Aramis’ door. He saw the surprise on d’Artagnan’s face when he opened it and saw he had come to call but he couldn’t really blame him. 

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Of course,” d’Artagnan said, stepping back to allow him inside.

“I just wanted to see how Aramis was doing,” Athos said taking off his hat and holding it in his hands nervously.

“Athos?” Aramis called when he heard his voice. He had not expected the man to come and felt his heart ease at the familiar sound of his voice.

“I am here,” Athos said as he moved to Aramis’ side. Without thought he sat down on the edge of the bed and took Aramis’ hand on his. “How are you feeling?”

“My head feels like a horse kicked me,” Aramis smiled. “I’ll be alright, though.”

“Good,” Athos said, smiling softly. “You scared me today. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I shall do my best,” Aramis promised. “Will you…”

“Will I what?” Athos prompted when Aramis trailed off.

“Nothing,” Aramis said, shaking his head and wincing at the pain even that slight movement caused.

“Well,” Athos began hesitantly. He looked back and forth between Aramis and d’Artagnan and swallowed. “I realize I am probably intruding but would you mind terribly if I stayed? I never rest well when he is injured and…”

“You… you still want to stay?” Aramis asked, surprised.

“Of course I do,” Athos replied. “You are my brother, Aramis. I know I have made you doubt that of late but it is true nevertheless.”

Aramis smiled at him then as the bands around his heart finally gave way. “I’d like that,” he said. “I always rest easier when you are close.”

“Would you rather I went back to my own rooms for tonight?” d’Artagnan asked, not wanting to intrude on the pair when they were finally working things out.

“No,” Aramis said quickly, wincing again.

“No,” Athos agreed. “Your place is here. I would simply like to share that place with you tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are they going to be alright?” Treville asked Porthos as he came and sat down next to him at the near vacant table.

“Yeah,” Porthos replied with a grin. 

“Do I want to know what’s been going on?” 

“No, Sir,” Porthos shook his head. “Just know everything’s going to be alright now.”

“Good,” Treville said. “I was starting to get scared.”

End.


End file.
